Artist : FRANK TURNER
Album : Sleep Is For The Week
ItÂ's been eighteen months since I kissed you once,
So just saying Â"hiÂ" just isnÂ't going to fly,
But if you give me a clue and a minute or two,
Then I might remember your name.
And I hate to insist that I was really that pissed,
But to tell the truth, in my flush of youth,
I would drown my sight until faces and nights seemed the same.
And a nervous shrug and an awkward hug
WonÂ't get me out of the hole that IÂ've dug,
So I slip the noose with a poor excuse
And talk to someone, anyone else.
And I sit with my friends and I try to pretend
That I never did that sort of thing again,
But IÂ'm lying to myself.
And suddenly itÂ's as clear as clear could be:
IÂ'm not quite the perfect man that I hoped IÂ'd be.
And though I always tried to live an honest life,
To tell my truth IÂ've told my share of lies.
I remember you, of course I do,
But I donÂ't recall how many times weÂ've been through
This little game, that always ends the same,
With you sad and me far away.
And every time I repeat the line
That the faultÂ's not mine and I wasnÂ't unkind.
But the worst part is that IÂ've got nothing else to say.
And all the pretty little pictures of faith and firm devotion
That I painted as a child,
Well they have fallen by the wayside, along with all my puppy-fat,
But my days have taught me this:
That every day I spend pretending that I always choose the right path
Is a day that I choose the wrong.
Oh yes my wisdom teeth have been giving me grief –
They woke me up to find that IÂ'm exactly the kind of
Guy I said that IÂ'd rather be dead than be
In the days before I got laid.
Album : Sleep Is For The Week
ItÂ's been eighteen months since I kissed you once,
So just saying Â"hiÂ" just isnÂ't going to fly,
But if you give me a clue and a minute or two,
Then I might remember your name.
And I hate to insist that I was really that pissed,
But to tell the truth, in my flush of youth,
I would drown my sight until faces and nights seemed the same.
And a nervous shrug and an awkward hug
WonÂ't get me out of the hole that IÂ've dug,
So I slip the noose with a poor excuse
And talk to someone, anyone else.
And I sit with my friends and I try to pretend
That I never did that sort of thing again,
But IÂ'm lying to myself.
And suddenly itÂ's as clear as clear could be:
IÂ'm not quite the perfect man that I hoped IÂ'd be.
And though I always tried to live an honest life,
To tell my truth IÂ've told my share of lies.
I remember you, of course I do,
But I donÂ't recall how many times weÂ've been through
This little game, that always ends the same,
With you sad and me far away.
And every time I repeat the line
That the faultÂ's not mine and I wasnÂ't unkind.
But the worst part is that IÂ've got nothing else to say.
And all the pretty little pictures of faith and firm devotion
That I painted as a child,
Well they have fallen by the wayside, along with all my puppy-fat,
But my days have taught me this:
That every day I spend pretending that I always choose the right path
Is a day that I choose the wrong.
Oh yes my wisdom teeth have been giving me grief –
They woke me up to find that IÂ'm exactly the kind of
Guy I said that IÂ'd rather be dead than be
In the days before I got laid.
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